Blackthwaite House (Part 3 Of 3) free porn video

BLACKTHWAITE HOUSE (Part 3 of 3) By Lisa Lovelace It was minutes before midnight. Lying on her back on the drawing room sofa, her legs spread amid disheveled skirts, The Rt Hon. The Lady Blackthwaite moaned helplessly as I bent over her. I helped her sit up and handed her a tall glass of water in which two tablets of Alka-Seltzer fizzed merrily. She was in the grip of the mother of all hangovers, incurred earlier in the day when she celebrated a legal victory by downing five glasses of sauvignon blanc in rapid succession. The victory made her the mistress of Blackthwaite House - and of me. Upon the death of Lord Blackthwaite, his first wife, the evil Miranda Epsom-Ascot, demanded a public reading of his will, a document that neither of his wives had ever seen. Unfortunately for Miranda, the will quite clearly bequeathed the house and estate to his second wife, Katherine. Miranda furiously stalked out of the solicitor's office, threatening legal death and destruction, and my lady adjourned to the nearest pub to celebrate. Her solicitor, a nice man named Edward Clarke, accompanied her, talked her out of a sixth glass of wine and brought her home, where she'd passed out on the sofa four hours ago. She moaned again. "Oh my God," she said. "I'm dead." "Only mostly dead, my lady," I said. "You're still partly alive. Let's take you upstairs and put you to bed." "I don't think I can walk," she said. "I'll help you," I said. I got her upstairs, changed her into a nightgown and tucked her under the duvet. She belched loudly and instantly fell asleep. ~ ~ ~ At that time my legal name was still Lyle Lyndon, but everyone called me Lisa. I was an American 18-year-old boy who'd been befriended and then held captive by Lord and Lady Blackthwaite while touring England's lovely Lake District, my first stop on a gap-year itinerary. Her ladyship made me wear a traditional English maid's uniform and trained me to be their feminine servant. I'd always had a secret weakness for female clothing, so I adjusted readily to wearing the elegant uniforms, and perhaps that was one reason I eventually came to have feelings for Lady Blackthwaite. She in turn started treating me more leniently and, after her husband's death, offered me my freedom. At that frightening turning point in my life, I chose instead to remain in her service - and to remain in my maid's dresses. It took Lady Blackthwaite all of the next day to recover from her little bout with the bottle. I served her bland meals and made sure she drank a lot of water. It wasn't until the day after that she felt well enough to chat. She came downstairs and found me in the kitchen. I made breakfast, and when we were finished, she told me to sit. "Now that the house is finally mine, I've decided to make some changes," she said. "Yes, my lady?" "The first change is that you're no longer my maid." I froze in shock. I couldn't speak. Was she kicking me out? "Instead," she said. "I'm making you my lady's companion. It's an old- fashioned concept, but perfect in your circumstances. You won't be a servant, you'll be a member of the household, like a poor relation. You'll live here and keep me company. I'll give you room and board and clothing. Possibly a small allowance, but never wages. You won't quite be my equal, but you'll sit at the table at dinner instead of serving it." "Thank you, my lady, but then who will serve the dinner?" "I suppose I'll have to hire a maid." "Hire, or kidnap?" "Touch?," she said. "I'll hire a real girl. I'll never find another boy as pretty as you." "Must you? Can the estate afford it?" "I don't know yet. Probably. I need to meet with Mr. Clarke." "He seemed like a nice man," I said. She smiled. "I'm pretty sure he thought you were nice, too." I hastily changed the subject. "What was the second thing you want to change, my lady?" "Oh. The second thing is, I want you to move into his lordship's rooms. I want my companion to sleep next door, not upstairs. We'll redecorate them, of course. All that dark wood..." She shuddered. "Oh, my lady, you're too good to me!" "Yes, I am," she said, laughing. "No, I mean it!" I said. "I don't want you to hire a maid, because... please don't laugh at me... I still want to be your maid. I want to serve you and take care of you. I don't want another woman in our household, or a man, either. I want to wear your uniform as a sign of my... my deep respect." A tear ran down my lady's cheek. It was the first time I'd seen her cry. She hadn't shed a tear when her husband died. "Oh, Lisa, I'm touched. But I want you as my companion, and you can't be my companion and my maid both." "Why not?" I said. "What do you mean?" "I'll be your maid part of the time, because someone's got to do the chores around here, and I'll be your companion the rest of the time." "That's silly," she said. "How would I know who you are at the moment?" "From what I'm wearing," I said. "When I'm a maid, like now, I'll wear the uniform. When I'm your companion, I'll wear a regular dress. I'll need you to buy me some pretty dresses." She thought it over. "Tell me how a typical day would work. How could you get all your chores done and still have time to be my companion?" "Let's see. When I get up, I put on my uniform to cook breakfast, clean up, do chores all morning and make lunch. If I'm not done with my chores, I'll finish them after lunch. When I'm done, I'll change into a dress and be your companion if you're around. I'll change into my uniform to make dinner and change back into the dress afterwards, and I'll be your companion for the rest of the evening." "And night. Now that you'll be next door to me." "And night." "Let me think about it," she said. "Yes, my lady. Excuse me for saying so, but the idea of having to change in and out of my maid's uniform a couple of times a day is - how do software people say it? - it's not a bug, it's a feature. I like dressing and undressing in women's clothes. It gives me pleasure." "I wish I could say the same," Lady Blackthwaite. "What if we simplify your idea? You can wear whatever dress you like, and yes, I'll buy you some pretty ones. Whenever you're wearing an apron, you're Lisa the maid, and you curtsy, and you call me my lady. Whenever you're not wearing an apron, you're Lisa, my companion, and you don't curtsy, and you call me Kate." "Yes, my lady." "Take off your apron, Lisa." "Yes, my lady." I untied it and folded it and placed it on the table. "Well, Lisa?" "Yes, my - yes, Katherine?" "Call me Kate." "Yes, Kate." It felt odd to be so informal with her. We played the apron game for a week. Sometimes she would walk up behind me while I was working and untie my apron and pull it off me, and then I would become her companion and call her Kate. Sometimes she would walk up to me with an apron in her hands and tie it around me, and then I would become Lisa the maid and curtsy to her and call her my lady. It was fun and sexy and silly, and it made us more comfortable with each other. One day, my lady Kate - I liked thinking of her that way, though I didn't call her that - called me to her new office. What had been Lord Blackthwaite's library now looked completely different. The shelves full of books were gone - she'd mentioned donating them to the local library and historical society. No Victorian desk, no manual typewriter, no dusty cabinets, no wainscoted walls, no portrait of his father, the last governor of some centrifugal bit of the British Empire. Instead, it was all white walls and glass and chrome, a modern executive desk with a triptych of computer screens. The only nods to femininity were the desk's modesty panel and a single perfect orchid in a striking glass vase. I was wearing an apron at the time, so I curtsied to her. "Take the apron off, Lisa," she said, "and take a seat." I removed the apron. "Yes, Kate," I said, pulling a chair into the empty space before her desk. "I have bad news. That cunt Miranda is suing me for control of the estate." "What? I thought your husband's will settled it," I said. "I thought so, too, but she's now claiming that he was unduly influenced by his caregivers, including a maid named Lisa, who was rewarded handsomely in his will." "What? She dragged me into this?" I felt a jolt of fear. I needed to keep well away from the British legal system. "I'm afraid so. Edward Clarke will respond and hopefully quash the thing." "If he can't?" I asked nervously. "You and I will meet with him tomorrow to discuss all this. Wear your prettiest dress, no apron." In the morning she made me look my best before she drove us into Windermere town. We hadn't shopped for dresses yet, so I wore my black satin maid's dress without an apron or cap, and managed to look somewhat normal. Before we entered his office, she reminded me to behave like her companion, not her maid. Mr. Clarke greeted us politely. He'd set out two armchairs for us. I scooped my skirt under me and sat primly on the forward edge of the seat, just as my mistress - as Kate - did. "We have two things to discuss, my lady," he said. "The first is Miranda Epsom-Ascot's lawsuit challenging your late husband's will. The second is Lisa's legal status." Oh God, it was going to be all lawyer talk. I smoothed my skirt over my petticoat, sat up straighter and tried to pay attention. "I'll keep the first point short. You will win and Ms. Epsom-Ascot will lose. Lord Blackthwaite's will was ironclad. You, my lady, are the mistress of his lordship's estate. You owe Ms. Epsom-Ascot nothing." My heart leaped. My mistress would win! She would be able to live here forever. What about me? "On the second point, it's more complicated. I'm not an immigration specialist, but here's what I know. Lisa can stay here as a tourist for up to six months. If she wants to stay longer, she can apply for a long- term visitor's visa, and after three years, she can become a citizen by..." He looked at me. "By marrying a UK citizen." I blushed. Maybe he thought we were lesbians, that after years of being married to an old man, Kate was having a fling with a foreign bit of fluff. If so, he couldn't be more wrong. I mean, she was a baroness, she'd never dream of getting involved with an American teenager. Mr. Clarke added a lot of yadda yadda yadda about requirements and blah blah blah and fees and more fees, in more detail than I could follow, and I decided I would just have to trust him and Kate on all of this. I wasn't a Brit. Did I want to become one? I would have to... oh God, what a mess. I hoped Kate still had Lyle's passport, but I doubted Lisa would be able to use it. Maybe I'd have to change back to a boy to satisfy the authorities? I didn't want to, but if Mr. Clarke said I had to... He kept his eyes on me for most of the meeting. I couldn't think why, unless... oh my God... he was totally checking me out. He thought I was a girl. I hoped so, I didn't want anyone to read me as male, but then what if he showed interest in me? I had enough worries already. When we were done - or rather, when my lady Kate and Mr. Clarke were done, as by now my brain was mush - we thanked him and she drove us home. While we were waiting for the ferry, Kate said, "Mr. Clarke seemed very interested in your case, Lisa. Or maybe he was just interested in you." I blushed. I couldn't deny it. "Does he know my secret?" "I rather doubt it," she said. "He's reacting to you the way men react to pretty girls. He likes your legs, I can tell. Do you like him?" "He seems like a nice man," I said. "I'm not attracted to him sexually." That was almost entirely true. "I'm straight. I don't want to have a relationship with a man." "What about a relationship with a woman?" Kate asked. I couldn't tell if she was just asking, or if she might really be hinting at a relationship with her. I couldn't believe that, so I assumed she was just asking and gave her a straightforward answer. "I definitely prefer girls," I said. "The problem is, I like being a girl myself, and most real girls can't deal with that." Kate laughed. "And girls who like girls want real girls, not sissy boys." I didn't answer. Was she describing herself? She'd been married to a man for years, but that didn't prove anything. I knew nothing of their sex life, but outside their separate bedrooms they showed no evidence of passion. Of course, they were English, so they might show no evidence of passion even if they rutted like squirrels every night. Back home, I put on my apron back on and resumed my domestic chores. Over the next several days, my lady had several phone conversations with Mr. Clarke, presumably about details of our cases. After one of them, she summoned me to her office. I entered and curtsied. "Yes, my lady?" "Lisa, Mr. Clarke spoke to me about you in particular." "Is it good news or bad news, my lady?" She smiled. "A matter of opinion. He wants to see you socially. He was polite enough to talk to me first." "You mean, like a date?" "Yes. He would like to take Lisa out to dinner." I heard my heart pound. "Oh... what did you tell him?" "I told him I would talk to you, but he shouldn't be optimistic. The two of us are still in shock from his lordship's death, and so on. I hope you won't mind I said this, but I told him I felt like your unofficial guardian - you're barely an adult, alone in a country that's more foreign than you think - and I wanted to protect you like a daughter." "H-how did he react?" "He asked me if you're a girl or a boy." I gave a shriek of panic. "He didn't!" "He did." "Oh my God!" My hands were shaking. "What did you tell him?" "I didn't expect him to be so perceptive," my lady said. "If women haven't detected you, I wouldn't expect a man to. I told him the truth." "No!" "Yes. I asked him if he would be willing to date a male in a dress. Because I've long suspected that he might not mind." "What? You mean Mr. Clarke is gay?" "Couldn't you tell? Of course, I've known him for years. Naturally, Lord Blackthwaite never had a clue." I was stunned. "What did he say?" "He was terribly embarrassed, but he admitted he was intrigued by the idea of dating a pretty boy in a dress. In fact, that was his clue that Lisa might be male. For the first time, he found himself physically attracted to a person who appeared to be female, and now he knew why: because Lisa was actually a boy in petticoats." My head was awhirl. "I can't believe all this! I don't want to date Edward or any other man! I'm not gay!" My lady Kate said calmly, "But you're Lisa, who is a very pretty girl, and there's nothing wrong with a pretty girl having dinner with a handsome man. A handsome man who can help both of us - he's defending me against Amanda, and he's going to help you stay here for as long as you want. Shouldn't we both be nice to him? Are you absolutely positive you're not willing to have dinner with him? You don't have to have sex with him, you can say no. Or you can say yes." I didn't have to oblige Mr. Clarke, but I did have to oblige my lady, so I agreed to do what she wanted me to do. I had dinner with him. It turned out to be an evening I would never forget. Of course I needed a new dress and shoes to match, and Kate decreed that I had to have new lingerie just in case Edward got a peek, so we went shopping - not in Windermere, but in a larger town called Kendal, half an hour or so away, which had a cute old downtown area with a better selection of shops. In one of them I found a lovely below-the-knee dress in lilac silk with a modest bustline, elbow-length sleeves, a full skirt and a built-in underskirt that would camouflage my lack of hips. On the day of my date, I started with a relaxing tub soak in fragrant bubbles, then put on a simple day dress so that Kate could take me her salon for the works: shampoo and haircut, a facial, a mani-pedi and makeup. She drove me home and helped me dress, joking that she would be my Lisa for a few minutes. I made her put on an apron and called her Lisa while I was dressing, and she called me my lady, and we giggled like schoolgirls. She touched up my hair and makeup, and lent me earrings, bracelets and a necklace, and faffed about with my dress before declaring me ready. Kate opened the gate and Edward's red Mini Cooper drove up at precisely seven o'clock. Peeking from an upstairs window, I saw that he was wearing a well-tailored suit and tie. I was relieved - I'd been afraid his clothes would be too informal for the dress I'd chosen. I heard him knock and Kate let him in. They chatted for a few minutes, and then Kate called up to me. It was time to make my entrance. I walked down the upstairs hallway, taking care to swivel my hips properly, to the head of the staircase, and slowly descended to the entrance hall, with its great fireplace and flagstone floor and medieval weapons on the walls. Edward and Kate watched me navigate the steps without trouble in my four-inch heels. I presented myself to them and curtsied. "You look splendid, Miss Lyndon," Edward said. "Why, thank you, Mr. Clarke," I said. "You two have a lovely time!" Kate waved from the front door. He escorted me to his car, opened the door for me and gave me a hand as I squeezed myself into the tiny vehicle and pulled all my skirts inside. He hopped into the driver's seat, turned around in the drive and we were off. We crossed the lake on the ferry and drove through Windermere to a nearby town called Ambleside, where we stopped at a place offering fine British dining - which turned out not to be a contradiction in terms. The food was mostly locally sourced and was superb. I'd never had such a meal. Mr. Clarke told me the place had a Michelin star, and explained to me what that meant. I thought Michelin made tires, but he said no, that a different Michelin. We talked mostly about the food until we were almost done with the tasting menu. A silence fell over us as we nibbled at our Cumbrian gingerbread cheesecake. "Do you mind if I call you Lisa?" he said. "If I can call you Edward." "Please do." He lowered his voice. "I talked to Lady Blackthwaite about you the other day." "I know. She said she told you about me." I wanted to sound angry, but the food had lulled me into a mellow mood. "Yes," he said, looking embarrassed. "And she told you about me?" "She said you prefer boys to girls, and said you'd be willing to date a boy in a dress. So here I am," I said. "Willingly?" "She was able to talk me into it," I said. "What about you, Lisa? As a boy in a dress, could you have a relationship with... with another kind of boy?" "I don't know that I can," I said. "I told Kate I was straight." "Oh, you're calling her Kate now?" "Sometimes. It's complicated," I said. "I'll admit, I told her that I didn't want to go out with you tonight. That would have been a tragic error..." I waved at the remains of dinner, and he laughed. "But," I said, "I get turned on by girls, and by their clothes. I don't get turned on by guys. I mean, I think you're a really nice guy, very handsome, and I trust you as our solicitor, but you don't excite me." "Have you ever had sex with a man?" "No." "Then you don't really know, do you? You might find you like it." He lifted my hand from the table. My rings and bracelet sparkled as he respectfully kissed the back of my hand. "Did you mind that?" "No," I said. "It's nice." He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Did you mind that?" "A little, yes," I said. "We're in public, Edward." "And if we were in private?" "I would mind it less." "Well, then. I think we're done here. Do you want coffee?" "No, thank you." Edward signed for the waiter and paid the bill. I couldn't see the amount, but I tell it was in three figures. He was a good man, a generous man, and Kate and I both needed him to fight legal battles for us, and I'd been a bit - well, not exactly snippy with him, but not as warm as a real girl on a date with a man she liked. The waiter pulled out my chair for me as I rose, and I gave him a nod and a smile. Edward walked me back to his car, and held the door open as I went through the gymnastics of climbing into a Mini Cooper in a floaty dress. I hoped I didn't flash him my panties, but he was smiling a bit too broadly as he climbed into the driver's seat. "Lisa," he said. "Edward?" "It's only nine," he said. "I don't want the night to end so soon. I'd like to invite you for a nightcap or coffee at my place. I promise to be a perfect gentleman. I will not force myself upon you. I'd just like to continue our conversation." Unlike real girls my age, I had no experience of dealing with men. I knew they would say almost anything to get into a girl's pants. But I was already in my girl's pants... knickers... whatever. And I wanted to trust Edward. My instinct told me he was a good man. I wasn't afraid of him. Should I be? I had a feeling I would learn something about being a girl tonight, but I didn't know what it would be. "Okay," I told him. He smiled, and exceeded the speed limit all the way back to Windermere, where he had a small house on one of the incredibly cute side streets leading uphill from the center of town. He clicked a control, and a gate not unlike the one at Blackthwaite House rolled open to reveal a parking area just big enough to hold the Mini Cooper. The gate closed behind us, making me nervous. I hoped that wasn't the only exit from the house. He led me through a door into his house. While nowhere near as grand as Blackthwaite House, it was roomy for a bachelor pad, about the right size for a couple. The interior had been thoroughly modernized, except for a few walls that remained unpainted stone. A door in the kitchen opened onto the street, quelling my fear of being trapped. There was a table for two in the kitchen. I sat while he opened a bottle of wine. "English wine," he said. "Quite good, actually. From a vineyard near Hastings." "The Battle of Hastings," I said, scraping the bottom of the barrel in my store of English history. "Well done," he said. "The French stole the whole country, and it took us four hundred years to get a more or less English king, and he was half Welsh." I could tell he was nervous. Why babble about the French and Welsh? The issue on the table was Edward and Lisa. The dinner had buttered me up, and the wine was helping, and I knew he was a man Kate and I wanted to please. I hadn't minded the kiss as much as I expected. I decided to go for it. Go as far as he wanted to take me, for this one night. I'd probably regret it in the morning, but it was an opportunity to learn one of the ways that adults made love, and I was overdue for schooling in all the ways of adult sex. I was a virgin in all my orifices. How should I give Edward permission to proceed? I decided to give myself permission instead. I leaned across the tiny table and lightly kissed him on the lips. I sat back and smiled at him, desperately hoping I wasn't making a huge mistake. "Lisa," he said. He circled the table, took my hand and raised me to my feet. He kissed me back. His tongue entered my mouth. I let him kiss me - or snog me, as the Brits say - as he willed, and boy, did he will. Our arms were around each other. Even in my heels, I had to look up to him, and suddenly I was overwhelmed by his presence. I had an intense desire to submit to him, give myself to him, let him do whatever he wanted to me. "What should I do, Edward?" I asked. "Come into the bedroom." I shivered and followed him. "May I take your dress off, Lisa?" I couldn't speak. Nodded. He unzipped me and pulled my dress off, and my slip, without touching my skin. "Lie down and I'll do you," he said as he undressed. I obeyed. He knelt between my legs, pulled down my panties and put my clit - Lady Kate insisted I call it my clit - in his mouth. He licked and sucked it, and it got stiff, and then gradually became less stiff despite his best efforts. I didn't know gay culture and didn't know what roles boys took with each other, but even in my stockings and bra, I didn't feel particularly sexy. "I'm don't know if this is going to work," I said, feeling deeply inadequate. "I mean, it feels really nice, but I don't think I can come this way. If you were a pretty girl..." "Oh, that again," Edward said impatiently. "Let's move on to the main event." It took a while to get ready. He made me give myself an enema, and showed me the condom he would wear. He grabbed a tube of lube, squirted it onto his finger like toothpaste, and inserted his finger in my bottom. It hurt at first, but the lube helped me relax until he replaced his finger with a lustier appendage. I gasped from the pain, but as he worked his way in the pain lessened, and eventually he began thrusting in and out, as if fucking a girl's vagina. I didn't know what a girl felt in her vagina, but whatever it was, the male equivalent didn't excite me. I'd read that the prostate gland was how men climaxed this way, but either Edward couldn't find it, or couldn't reach it, or my gland was substandard somehow. For whatever reason, I didn't climax. He pounded away at me until he came, making me feel all sticky. "Thank you," I told him, hoping I hadn't displeased him. "For what?" he asked. "You didn't come, I could tell." "I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't feel anything magical. I'm glad you enjoyed it." "I totally failed you, didn't I?" he said gently. I admired how he was trying to make me feel better about what was really my failure. I loved girls, not boys. I would just have to tell him. I hated to disappoint him, but he and I had no romantic future. Dressed or undressed, I was hetero. "No, Edward. I failed you. I tried to be something I'm not. Maybe I'm a male lesbian or something, I don't know, but... I respond to girls, and not to guys. I gave it my best shot, and it didn't happen. It's my fault." He looked miserable and unsure what to say. I leaned forward and kissed him again. "Shagging didn't work, but the snogging wasn't so bad, was it?" So we focused on oscular action for a time. I liked being touched and stroked as though I were female, but I wished I was kissing a woman instead of a man. Even so, I was perversely proud of what I'd tried tonight: me getting French kissed, me getting a blow job, me getting fucked in the ass. Only the kissing worked, and I'd have enjoyed it more with a woman, so actually, nothing that Edward did really made my engine turn over. I got up and cleaned him with a warm washcloth, and then myself, and I pulled on my lingerie and my lilac silk dress and fixed my makeup. Edward was looking at me but didn't speak, so I had to. "Edward. I like you, but I don't love you. I just don't love men romantically. I trust you, I would love to be your friend, but I can't be in a romantic relationship with you. I'm so sorry." He knelt before me. Again I felt my heart pound. "Maybe I'm too late, Lisa, but I don't want to lose you! I... I want to offer you my heart." He pulled a small jewelry case from a pocket and opened it to show me a rather lavish engagement ring. "You're the perfect bride for me - a girl on the outside, a boy on the inside. Will you marry me?" I started to cry. "Oh, Edward! Thank you for the offer, but I can't, I just can't." "Why not?" he said. "Are you setting your sights on Lady Blackthwaite? Don't waste your time. She'd never consider the likes of you." "Of course not," I said. "I'm only eighteen. I don't want to marry anyone yet." "Probably wise," he said. "You and I, we'd be so perfect, but if you can't love me, there's no more to be said." "I'm sorry," I said, sniffling. "So am I. Well. I suppose I should take you home." "I'd appreciate it, Edward." It started to rain. He drove me home in silence. The ferry had stopped running at ten, so he had to take me the long way round the lake, adding half an hour to the trip each way. I apologized for the inconvenience. He said it was no problem. I'd done the right thing, but I felt terrible about it. Edward seemed to be a fine man, though of course a good deal older than me, and like me, he had to keep his sexuality concealed from the world, though we did it in different ways. I hated to hurt him, but I had to think of myself first, and I didn't want to be kept by a man. He dropped me off at the front of Blackthwaite House. A light was on outside the door and upstairs. Edward opened my door for me and held his jacket over my head so that I wouldn't get wet. At the top of the stairs, protected from the rain, we faced each other. "Thank you for a lovely dinner, and for inviting me to your home afterwards," I said. "You're welcome, Lisa. I'm sorry about your decision, but it is your decision, and in your shoes, I might make the same choice." "You'd find my shoes pretty uncomfortable," I said. He laughed. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Oh, Edward. You're a perfect gentleman." "Far from perfect," he said. "Goodnight, Lisa." He hurried back to his absurd little vehicle. I entered the keypad code, and the front door unlocked. "Goodnight, Edward," I said quietly, and hurried inside. The wind was picking up. I had just put down my coat and handbag when Lady Kate came tripping down the stairs in a black negligee. "Well?" she said. "Best food I've ever had," I said. "I'm not asking about the bloody food! What about Edward? Come, let's talk." We went into the kitchen. She got out a mostly full bottle of wine, filled two glasses, shoved one at me and we sat. "So," she said. "What happened?" "I'm glad he knew I'm a boy, and I'm glad I knew he's gay," I said. "It made everything easier. I told him that while I was flattered by his interest, I'm straight, and I don't get turned on by males." "Oh, dear," she said. "I'm sure that disappointed him." "It did," I said. "We left the restaurant, and he invited me to his house for a nightcap." "Oh?" "I said yes, and that's when things got interesting." "Ooh. Like what?" "He made me drink English wine." "You poor thing!" she said. "It was actually good. Then he talked me into having sex with him." "Oh, my! What did you do?" "I remembered you saying that I needed to be nice to him, that we're both dependent on him in different ways. So I kissed him. He kissed me back. And all of a sudden we were snogging." "Your vocabulary is expanding. Tongue?" "Lots of tongue. Then he undressed me and gave me a blow job." "Really? Have you ever had one before?" "No." "How did you like it?" "I didn't, really. He couldn't bring me to climax." "Oh! Why not?" "Well... he was a man. He smelled like a man. It turned me off." "So then what did you do?" "I let him fuck me." "Really? How did that feel?" "It hurt." "I hoped he wore a condom." "He did. He got all the way in. He humped me until he came. I felt nothing, except an unpleasant feeling of being full." "He couldn't find your sweet spot?" "If I have one, he didn't find it. I didn't feel sexy. I felt like I was being used." "Welcome to womanhood, sister." Kate sighed and refilled our glasses. "What a pity. He's such a nice man." "Oh, he wasn't done with me." "What else did he do?" "He proposed." Kate shrieked. "What? You mean he got down on one knee and offered you a ring?" "Yes, exactly," I said. "What did you tell him?" "I said no, thank you." "Poor Edward! How did he react?" "Like a perfect gentleman," I said. "He said that in my shoes, at my age, he might make the same choice. Then he had to drive me the long way around the lake because the ferry was closed." Kate laughed. "Adding insult to injury. Oh, the poor man. I hope he doesn't throw me out of his office the next time he sees me." "Don't forget me!" I said. "I need him to solve my immigration problems." Kate's tone changed. "Do you really want to stay in Britain, dear?" "If I can stay with you," I replied. "If you fire me, I guess I'll have to return to the States." "I'm not going to fire you, Lisa," she said gently. "I'd very much like to keep you." "Keep me? As your companion and maid?" "No," she said. "Wait here a moment." She left the room, and returned a minute later. She knelt in front of me on the kitchen floor. Was she... was this...? "Lisa, I love you. I want to keep you with me for the rest of my life," she said. She produced a box the same size as the one that Edward had offered me a couple of hours ago. She opened it to show me a ring bearing a diamond large enough to make me catch my breath. "Will you marry me?" I started to cry again. I had felt just too many emotions today, and they all overflowed. I never expected this, wasn't quite sure I could believe it, wondered if I was in some sort of waking dream, but knew in the same moment that this was real, and that I needed to give her an answer. Instead of being Kate's maid, I would become her housewife. I would do all the same work that I did as her maid, but I would be her spouse, her helpmeet, her hostess when she entertained. She would make all the important decisions, and I would obey her orders as I did now, but as her spouse I would have a higher social standing. And I would have legal rights I didn't have now. And if we married, that might simplify my immigration case. More to the point, I loved her, and I believed her when she said she loved me. We were such an odd couple: a woman who wanted to feminize boys and turn them into maids, and her latest victim, a boy who was happy to serve her in a black satin dress and white aprons and petticoats. It would be a female-led relationship, but that prospect didn't bother me. In our relationship, she would always be the leader, even if I was her wife and not her maid. And she was waiting for my answer. I made her my deepest curtsy. "Yes, my lady, I will marry you," I said. She took my hands and kissed me, gently at first, then more powerfully. "Thank you, Lisa! You've made me the happiest woman in Cumbria." "How many women are there in Cumbria?" I asked playfully. "At the moment, only two," she said, "and I'm holding the other one." "Can I wear a wedding gown?" I asked. "Wear whatever you like," she said. "On that day, you'll be my princess." "Yes, my lady," I said, and gratefully sank into her encircling arms. ~ ~ ~ The wedding took place in the entry hall of Blackthwaite House and was very private. I wouldn't get a title for marrying a dowager baroness, so I took the name of Lisa Blackthwaite. I took the groom's part in the ceremony, but wore a strapless organza princess gown supported by my corset and my almost C-cup breasts, with delicate lace overlays on the bodice that continued down its long, very full skirts. Of course I wore a frou-frou taffeta petticoat underneath it, and four-inch white sandals. Edward Clarke very kindly consented to be best man for a crossdressed groom, and looked distinguished in his classic tuxedo. Kate wore a brilliant white silk tux with heels and looked magnificent. Her mother, Maud, a handsome woman of sixty or so, was her matron of honor, and Kate's younger sister, a looker in her twenties, was her bridesmaid. They wore mauve dresses in different styles that complemented their figures. I remembered the rather fraught dinner at which Kate had introduced me to her parents. I wore my lilac dress, knowing that Kate had explained the situation beforehand. They were taken aback, but not by surprise. Naturally they made no mention of it, which kept the conversation awkward all night. They warmed toward me only later, after I delicately confided to Maud that my late parents had left me in affluent circumstances, in no need of financial support from Katherine or anyone, and well able to contribute toward the upkeep of Blackthwaite House. "Oh, thank goodness," Maud replied. "We were afraid you were just after her money. Are those new shoes?" When I took my vows, I changed the modern wording and promised to love, honor and obey Katherine, and no one raised an eyebrow. We said our I do's and exchanged rings. Kate lifted my brief veil and gave me a kiss that I happily reciprocated, and we were married. Married! If you'd told me before I left the States that any of this would happen, I would've asked what you were smoking. I was so, so happy, but more than a little dazed at how quickly and completely my life had changed. I was happy, too, because no one made a public fuss over my gown. I'd decided to present myself as a female, as Kate's "housewife," starting at the wedding, and all the guests had been warned. The father of the bride, Andrew, a tall, beefy gent who'd played rugby league in his youth, danced with me briefly during the first waltz. I think politeness overcame his distaste at his daughter's choice in a spouse. Edward sensed that Andrew didn't want to dance with me any longer than necessary and cut in on him as soon as was polite, allowing Andrew to escape. Edward was such a prince! He made me even happier later, when he pulled me aside to tell me that our marriage pretty much spelled doom for Amanda Epsom-Ascot's lawsuit against Kate. He explained why, of which I understood not a word. I stood on tiptoe in my heels and kissed him on the cheek. We kept the dancing and speechmaking mercifully short and, on the long table in the dining room, served a wedding dinner of spicy Cumberland sausage, a roast lamb more than a year old called Herdwick hogget, a cold baked Arctic char (Kate didn't approve of eating the native Windermere char), Grasmere gingerbread and sticky toffee pudding, among other local specialties, washed down with local beers, ciders and nips from local craft distilleries. The wine was French and perfectly adequate to its task. Eventually the surfeit of food and drink took its toll. Our celebrant - a college friend of Kate's - left first, followed by Kate's family soon after, followed by Edward, and suddenly Kate and I were alone, she in her white tux, me in my wedding gown. She was drunker than I was - not blotto, but not fully compos mentis. We both sat on the sofa in the drawing room, laughing. "My dad dancing with you - priceless!" Kate said, covering her mouth. "And the way your mum was flirting with Edward!" I said. "He's such a good sport." We went to her bedroom and slipped into beautiful bridal nightwear. Kate snuggled closer to me than usual, and played with my oversized clit and somehow made it stiffer than it had been for some time, and whispered in my ear that she was no longer on the pill. The thought excited me, and events took their age-old course, and for the first and possibly last time, I deposited my sperm inside her. We wouldn't know for weeks, but it was possible that I, Lisa, had just impregnated my new wife - or was I the wife? Afterwards, I took her to Paradise, not just once but several times, and fell asleep in her bed, satiated with food, drink, happiness and love. I woke up early the next morning. The house was quiet. I slipped out of bed without waking Kate, tiptoed back to my room and had to decide what to wear on my first day of marriage, my first day as my lady's housewife. One of my dresses, or my maid's uniform? Hold on, we'd decided that the dress didn't matter. It was all about whether I was wearing an apron. Well, I'd certainly need to wear one to cook breakfast and do the dishes and clean the kitchen afterwards... and with the wedding and everything, I hadn't vacuumed or done the laundry in a week... and there was a pile of wedding lingerie that needed to be hand washed... Yes, I definitely needed to wear an apron today. I could be my lady's companion after dinner. I put on one of my new housewife dresses with a petticoat, tied a ruffled bib apron tightly around my waist, faffed with the bow until it was tidy, and set about my daily duties in Blackthwaite House. The End